


Costumed

by seashadows



Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: Grinding, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Octavius is a dramatic son of a you-know-what, Pining, Post-NATM2, Sharing Clothes, Slow Burn, additional tags to come in subsequent chapter(s), so much sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 19:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16248740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seashadows/pseuds/seashadows
Summary: In retrospect, Octavius could not say for sure that the mess began with Larry and his holiday chocolates, but that certainly didn’t help.(Jedediah is a messy eater, Octavius has a surprising affinity for the ins and outs of clothing, and everyone is an awkward turtle.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Martinus Cornelius (Imion)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imion/gifts).



> Many thanks to [Martinus Cornelius](martinus-cornelius.tumblr.com) for being a fantastic friend/introduction to Jedtavius trashitude. 
> 
> The Latin should be translatable through context clues, but if I'm wrong about that, please let me know. :)

In retrospect, Octavius could not say for sure that the mess began with Larry and his holiday chocolates, but that certainly didn’t help. 

He had known about Halloween for years, of course. As far as he knew, every exhibit knew what it was. They had all grown used to the cyclical holidays here. The museum decorated the front area with garish black and orange decorations that wouldn’t be out of place at Saturnalia (which, he had learned, was itself now called Christmas and devoted to a Judean whose sect hadn’t risen to prominence until well after Octavius’s death – how times had changed). Children came in wearing costumes – while he hadn’t seen them himself, he had heard the three elderly night guards grumble about them before. Reginald had spent years grumbling about how he never had the opportunity to take his grandchildren from house to house, demanding sweets from willing adults. 

Rome, Octavius thought every year, might have appreciated such a festival. 

What he _wasn’t_ used to was a night guard who actively participated in Halloween, and who shared his spoils. But then, Larry was strange in a number of surprisingly pleasant ways. 

“You have paint on your face,” Octavius informed Larry when he first saw him. “Is it war paint?” Perhaps Larry still shared in the traditions of his Celtic half. 

“What, this?” Larry touched his cheek. “Oh. Yeah, sorry about that. It was my turn to take Nicky trick-or-treating this year. He wanted me to dress up, but I told him I had to go to work after, so…that’s how I ended up with a cat face.” 

“The artist was not overly diligent, I see,” said Octavius. He supposed that the paint resembled a cat, if only faintly. The tip of Larry’s nose had been painted black, and black lines that were probably meant to represent whiskers traveled out along his cheeks. 

Larry flinched and stood back up from his squatting position. Well, Octavius reflected, he probably deserved that for speaking out of turn. “Ouch,” he said. “Give Nicky a break. Art isn’t his favorite class.” 

“Ah.” Octavius placed a hand over his heart. “Then please forgive me.” 

“You know what, I’m gonna go wash this off,” Larry said, seeming to think better of walking around the museum with some semblance of a cat face. Octavius thought that was probably a wise decision. Maybe the lions were touchy about being imitated. “I’ll, uh, talk to you later. Don’t get into too much trouble.” 

_Trouble_. Octavius raised an eyebrow as Larry left, and turned to where his men waited for him in silent expectation. He was _imperator_ of the Legion of the Museum, and had encountered trouble in his life, past and present, such that Larry Daley couldn’t begin to imagine. 

“Form up,” he called, and was pleased when the men obeyed. 

He didn’t drill them hard. The legion had gone through their more vigorous practice formations and techniques last night with the help – disciplined help, of course – of some of the cowboys from the Western diorama. Domitianus, his _legatus_ , had executed an admirable display of hand-to-hand combat with three of the railroad workers of Sinae. In all, Octavius was confident that the Roman Diorama could repel any reasonably-sized invader that came for them, and as such, dismissed training early. 

He did have outside responsibilities that were just as important. 

“Octavius!” one of those responsibilities shouted, careening towards him in the museum’s newest RC. “Git _in_ , whaddya been waitin’ for?” Jedediah threw a hand out the window and waved wildly back and forth. “Time to play us some fetch, boy!” 

Octavius laughed and did as he was told. “Your timing is excellent, my friend,” he said. His stomach lurched as Jedediah, as he put it, ‘stepped on it.’ These duties were always smoother when he drove. “We’ve just finished our drills for the night.” 

“Good!” said Jedediah. A _thump_ that shook the floor beneath them sounded from some distance away. “We better get goin’ – Rexy’s rarin’ to play tonight.” 

“Excellent,” Octavius echoed. “Well, then, onward!” 

With the renovations, what seemed like half the front hall was closed off with cardboard and plastic, but that hadn’t kept the docents from decorating. Jedediah whooped as they narrowly missed the corner of a protective cardboard covering where the globe usually stood. Rexy leaped over it, not far behind them, and landed with a crash. “Whoa!” Jedediah shouted as the car swerved. The force threw Octavius into his friend’s side so hard that he gasped. “Sorry, Octy.” 

_Octy_. The nickname made Octavius’s face go hot with more than just the adrenaline rush of their joyride. “It’s all right,” he said. Jedediah yanked hard on the steering wheel and the RC righted itself. “Maybe we should cut this session of fetch short.” 

“Might be a good idea,” Jedediah admitted. He brought the car to a screeching halt and turned in his seat, smiling at Octavius, before a roar made him shove his head out the window again. “Playtime’s over, little dogies!” The answering dinosaur growl sounded almost disappointed. “Nope, nope, no argufyin’ now. Ain’t riskin’ life and limb for you.” 

Octavius rubbed at his upper arm, which still felt warm where it had touched Jedediah’s shoulder. “That was quite the ride,” he said. 

“Uh-huh, sure was.” Jedediah shot him another half-smile, crinkling the corners of his eyes, and hopped out of the car. “Wasn’t worse’n any other time Rexy gets ants in his pants, though. You gettin’ out with me?” 

Octavius nodded and climbed out. “Is there anything else you’d like to do tonight?” he asked. Attila, according to Ahkmenrah, had been making noises about watching something that Nicky had recommended called Halloweentown. 

“Oh…could do a few things.” Jedediah stretched his arms over his head. “Stick around out here, maybe. I think Larry’s brought some food. You hurt his feelings, y’know.” He pointed at Octavius and fixed him with a long, squinting stare down the length of his nose. “Don’t tell people their costumes don’t look good, Octy. That’s rude.” 

“In my own defense,” said Octavius, “I was unaware that Nicky had had a hand in it.” He looked away from the force of Jedediah’s eyes. “I did apologize,” he added quietly. 

Jed’s answering smile could have blinded the sun itself. 

Octavius briefly feared that things were about to get, as Nicky put it, ‘awkward turtle’, but a shout saved him. “My liege!” It was Domitianus, panting so hard as he skidded up to them that it was evident he had run a long way. “Larry has brought sweets!” 

“Hot dog!” said Jedediah, and shoved Octavius with his elbow. “See, Octy? Woulda been the first ones to get it if you hadn’t gone and insulted him. That’s why you gotta be nice.” He turned to Domitianus and dusted his gloved hands against each other. “So what’s goin’ on, compadre? Is it a free-for-all or what?” 

Domitianus put his hands on his thighs and bent over, breath heaving. “Something called M&Ms,” he gulped out after a while. “Chocolate and peanut butter in the middle.” 

“Now hold on,” said Jedediah. “M&Ms are just chocolate. Everyone knows that!” 

“Not these.” Domitianus fervently shook his head. “These are a gift from the gods, sir. Larry said that he also brought ones with real peanuts in them, but they’re only for the large exhibits.” 

“Why?” said Octavius. 

Domitianus had the grace to look embarrassed before he admitted, “He said it would be a choking hazard. Sir.” 

“Choking!-“ Jedediah scoffed. “We ain’t kids. Hey!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, cupping his hands around his mouth. “We ain’t kids, Laredo!” Predictably, there was no response. Their voices could only carry so far. “Uh. So…Dominant?” 

“Domitianus, sir.” 

“Domitianus, right.” Jedediah cleared his throat. Truly, he was an utter troll sometimes. Octavius was well aware that Jedediah knew damn well who was who. “You got any idea where Gigantor’s gone off to? I’d like some of those M&Ms for myself. And, y’know, Octavius here.” He bumped Octavius’s hip with his own. Immediately, Octavius craved more bumps, but decided against an answering movement; he had an image of authority to maintain, after all. 

Domitianus pointed across the atrium. “By the stone head. I can fetch him if you want, my liege,” he added, turning to Octavius with a deferent bow of his head. “I believe the head has already had a whole bag.” 

Octavius narrowed his eyes and tried his best to send Larry’s backside a poison glare. “We should rank above the stone head in distribution of sweets,” he said, “but Larry was kind to bring you here to notify us.” 

“On his shoulder, sir,” Domitianus said with a nod. “May I rejoin the legion now? We’re enjoying our M&Ms. And…” he winced at the distant sound of Rexy’s heavy treads. “…the dinosaur frightens me.” 

Octavius returned the nod. “At your ease, Domitianus. You’ve done well.” 

“Thank you, sir!” 

Together, he and Jedediah watched him run off. After a minute, Jedediah turned to him with a snicker. “Scared of Rexy,” he said, shaking his head. “Rexy’s a good boy.” 

Octavius raised an eyebrow. Domitianus was excellent at what he did, and he wouldn’t see him insulted. “I thought we were meant to request our spoils,” he said. Perhaps he was being irrational, but it seemed to him that even at this distance, he could feel the heat of Jedediah’s body, and the realization made him curse himself for a fool. Some nights, this sort of madness took over his mind and body, making him crave closer contact – the sort that would undoubtedly send Jedediah running if he knew. Octavius had heard a few offhand words from Jedediah’s fellow Westerners that only strengthened his conclusion. “Should we ask Larry?” 

“ _Ask_ , heck, I’m tellin’,” said Jedediah. He clapped Octavius on the shoulder and set off at a run, Octavius quick at his heels. “Gigantor!” he hollered. “Hey, Gigantor, you got some of that for us?” 

Larry had had ample time to turn away from the stone head and put a smirk on his face by the time they reached him, and Octavius noted with some irritation that he had taken the opportunity. “Sure, guys,” he said. “I mean, Octavius did apologize. So…here you go.” He pulled a sweet out of the bag he was holding and set it in Jedediah’s outstretched arms. “Peanut butter M&M. You’ll like it. Happy Halloween.” 

“Jest _one?_ ” Jed exclaimed. “That durn head got a whole bag from what I heard!” 

“Yeah, and the head’s like ten times my size. You’re more like a thousandth of my size,” said Larry. 

The head gave a happy rumble at that. “Yum-yum from dum-dum.”

“Peanut butter’s really rich, anyway. Nicky was already on the way to eating himself sick when I left him with his mom.” Larry shrugged. “I gotta go distribute to the other exhibits. Keep an eye out for Dexter, okay? Your mayor said he was following me, Jed.” 

“Heh, probably,” Jedediah replied. “We’ll keep a look out, crackerjack. Happy Halloween.” He weighed the M&M in his arms, shrugged, and took an enormous bite. “Oh, _gosh_.” 

Octavius could smell the candy already, and it was so heavenly that his mouth was watering. “Are you going to give me a turn?” he asked. 

“Sure, just a…aw, dad _gum_ it!” Jedediah looked at his gloves, then down his shirt, before snatching his hat off his head and glaring at it, too. “I got peanut butter’n’chocolate on my shirt! _And_ my hat!” He snorted and stamped a foot in frustration, a gesture that made him eerily resemble his horse. “Dang, you go ahead, Octy. This stuff’s like a tar pit! You know, the one got his ancestors, or whatever.” He pointed vaguely in the direction that Rexy had gone. 

“I’ll be careful,” Octavius vowed, and took a cautious handful. Immediately, his eyes closed as he realized how very right Jedediah was. This was much better than the time Larry had given him a bite of his dinner sandwich, _so_ much better. He closed his eyes and let the sweetness roll across his tongue and down his throat with every tiny swallow. “By Vesta!” 

“Good, huh?” Larry said. 

Jedediah huffed. Octavius opened his eyes to see his friend pulling off his gloves in frustration. “Yeah, that’s good, but you ain’t the one with stuff all over his duds.” He narrowed his eyes and cast the half-destroyed candy an appraising glance. “Still, ‘s’good.” He pulled out a fingerful, shoved it in his mouth, and made an absolutely indecent noise. “Halloween ain’t so bad!” He ran his tongue across his smeared fingers, up the back of his hand, and down his palm. 

His _bare_ palm. 

Octavius had seen Jedediah without his gloves before, but it was a rare thing. He wondered how he had never before appreciated the length of Jedediah’s fingers and the softness of his skin, the pale hairs on the backs of each finger, and the way they interacted so perfectly with his flickering tongue. Suddenly, it was too much; he looked away and shifted uncomfortably in place. 

“Stuff tastes great, Laredo, but I’m still steamed about my clothes,” Jedediah said. 

Octavius knew that Larry was rolling his eyes without even having to look. “Jed, if you’re so upset about your shirt, take it off and I’ll wash it in the bathroom.” 

“What,” Jedediah said indignantly, “you mean take it off? In public? That ain’t right, pardner.” 

Somehow, the way Jedediah’s burr softened the word ‘partner,’ making it intimate and familiar, made Octavius’s blood rush to places best left unspoken almost as much as the thought of Jedediah without a shirt. How many times had Jedediah said that same word to him, accompanying it with a smile or a smack to his back? Especially in the last two years, but in scattered instances before, too. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep, slow breath to keep his hands from clenching into fists from sheer desire to touch Jedediah, to take off his clothing, to absorb the warmth of his body, to…

“Back me up here, Octy!” 

“Eh?” Octavius shook his head. “Excuse me?” 

Jedediah poked him in the side. “Pay attention, clank-a-roonie! Tell Paul Bunyan here I can’t go around without a shirt. If’n I want to change, I gotta do that back at the diorama. Got some wash-water there.” 

“I…I suppose if it makes you uncomfortable, you should wear something,” Octavius said. Nearly stuttered, in fact. He spared a quick glance down and satisfied himself that his pteruges weren’t revealing his current state of arousal. “I…” An idea came to him; he was certain that in any other situation, he wouldn’t have had the courage, but _carpe noctem_ seemed to be the phrase of this particular night. “I have a clean tunic, if you would care to wear that instead.” 

Jedediah brightened immediately. “Really? Whoo, might take you up on that there, pal. Just lemme finish some of this M&M first. Nice choice, Larry!” He grinned up at the night guard and shot him a double thumbs-up. And his hands were _still bare_. 

Larry blew out a long sigh, but when Octavius glanced up, he saw that his expression was amused rather than annoyed. “Glad you like it. Might want to go check on the rest of your friends. You know, make sure they don’t…” He made some nonsensical hand gestures. “You don’t want a bunch of chocolate-on-shirt incidents is what I mean.” 

“Don’t want the kids seein’ it tomorrow,” said Jedediah with a sage nod. He dipped out another handful of peanut butter and dug in with a sinful moan. Only the Jews in Octavius’s legion had a real concept of what ‘sinful’ was, as compared to those who worshipped the gods of Rome, but after hearing the preacher in the Western diorama use the term, Octavius had quite suddenly understood what it meant. Jedediah had, after all, been sitting next to him (it had also been the first and last sermon he attended). Jedediah’s mouth, his hands, his sounds…they defined the term. 

“I’ll take one of those,” said Octavius quietly, and reached for a second piece of candy. If he couldn’t drown his sorrows with beer or wine, then he would take to chocolate with pleasure this night. The gods would likely approve, Bacchus especially. 

After Larry had handed him an M&M and left, Octavius set to eating with only the occasional sidelong look at Jedediah, who was still making those ridiculous noises and occasionally wondering aloud if various fellow exhibits would be so clumsy as to get chocolate and peanut butter on _their_ clothing. Octavius did have to admit that when Jedediah asked about Ahkmenrah, he did have to laugh. “Ahkmenrah wouldn’t be nearly so clumsy,” he said. 

“Yeah, well, Ahk’s all talk.” Jedediah gave his fingers another lick. Gods damn his eyes, did he have to? “Funny guy, though. You heard the one he likes to tell about how the pyramids were built?” 

“What, a joke? No, I haven’t. Weren’t they made by pouring water upon the sand and dragging the stone?” 

Jedediah snorted. “Never mind. You wouldn’t get it, anyway.” 

Octavius sighed and reached for another bite of M&M, but stopped short when he realized that his hands were empty. He’d eaten the entire thing? Gods above. His stomach was beginning to ache. “It seems I’ve indulged myself sufficiently,” he said. 

Jedediah looked over and raised an eyebrow. “Dang, Octavius, and it ain’t even one of _your_ holidays! Nice job.” He glanced at the remnants of his treat and shrugged, then tossed it on the floor. “Someone’ll find it. Heh, probably Dexter. You wanna drive back to the diorama?” He licked his lips. At the sight, Octavius had to avert his eyes. 

“That would probably be best.” Octavius managed a smile. “ _I_ will do the driving this time, though. You’ve lost your car privileges for the night.” 

“Awww,” said Jedediah, but went along happily enough, and without complaint. Once they were settled in and on their way, he leaned over and touched Octavius’s shoulder. Octavius sent a very irritated prayer to Venus to make him _stop_. “You remember when you broke my nose, Octy?” 

“How could I forget?” Octavius replied. It was at least twenty years ago, if he recalled correctly. He and Jedediah had been embroiled in a particularly nasty bout of hand-to-hand combat, and forgetting he was still wearing his helmet, he had head-butted the cowboy in the face – hard. Of course, that ended the fight. Jedediah had spent three nights in the Roman diorama to make sure his nose was setting well and wouldn’t impede his ability to breathe, but every time Octavius focused on that crook, he remembered what he had done. Maybe it was horrible of him, but the thought that he had left such a permanent mark made him feel… _warm_ on occasion. “Why do you ask? Has it started hurting you?” 

Jedediah vehemently shook his head. “’Course not. Gaius did a good job. Just got to thinkin’. We’ve known each other a long time.” His quicksilver grin suddenly reappeared. “If we add up the years, it might be as long as a married couple! Even if we gotta divide it in half for the nights.” 

Octavius’s heart thudded hard in his chest. It was as if Jedediah had gained the ability to voice his own secret desires. He was glad that he had not – otherwise, he would undoubtedly not wish to spend any more time together. “You make a fine joke, my friend.” He neatly swerved to avoid a passing Union soldier. “I’ve enjoyed our years as well.” 

They reached the Hall of Miniatures, thank goodness, before Jedediah could reply. If he did, Octavius thought that he himself might very well burst into flame from the neck up. Jedediah was an effusive man, a true testament to the fact that their hearts were metaphorically far larger than their bodies indicated, and he wore his on his sleeve. Undoubtedly, he would say something complimentary enough to cause a blush. 

On the floor and the benches, their people were enjoying their candy, but the sight wasn’t the horror that Octavius had feared. Jedediah was the only one who had eaten messily enough to spoil his clothes, and it seemed Jedediah noticed. “Aw, heck!” he complained, scuffing at the floor with his heel, as soon as they got out of the car. “No one else’s gotta change their shirt. Hey, Horace!” He waved frantically at one of his friends, one Octavius knew was often at his side when Octavius himself wasn’t. “Lookit this.” He gestured at his front. “Right in fronta Larry.” 

Horace hooted and elaborately doffed his hat. “Got some washin’ soda at the company store for that,” he said. “Hey, General, you tell him he cain’t eat like a kid no more?” 

“I do try,” said Octavius in his plummiest tone, affecting a superior position. 

Jedediah shoved him, which Octavius had to admit he rather deserved. “You’re the one offered me a spare shirt,” he said. “Put up or shut up, Octy. We’re goin’ to Rome!” 

“I…” Now Octavius could really feel himself color. Damn it, damn it! “That was largely a facetious offer, Jedediah.” 

“Ha!” said Jedediah, and ran off, nimbly climbing up the leg of the bench with the hand that Horace offered him halfway up. _His gloves are still off_ , Octavius realized, and felt a stab of envy. For what? Horace’s hands? Ridiculous. “I remember what you said, Octavius,” he hollered from the slatted seat. “Gonna wear your shirt, or tunic, or whatever it was.” 

“His shirt?” Horace, Octavius could tell even from this distance, was looking at Jedediah askance. “We got shirts in the store, Jed. Could sew you up a new one if you take a mind to that.” 

Jedediah laughed and dropped nimbly off the sloping edge of the bench to land on both feet. “Could, but I aim to have Octavius keep his word,” he said. “C’mon, Octavius, I ain’t changin’ in front of all these people. Just get them raggin’ on me, wouldn’t I?” He put his hands on his hips and swaggered in a circle, his face jubilant. “Wouldn’t I?” 

“Dang right,” Horace shouted from on top of the bench, echoed all around by whoops from the listening Westerners. “G’on now, Jeddy, you look like a kid who fell in a cow pie. Don’t he, Octavius?” 

Octavius felt a smile spreading across his own face. It was so strange to have the Westerners address him with anything resembling friendship, although their years of fighting hadn’t had nearly the venom behind them as the battles he remembered from true Rome. “I couldn’t say,” he replied. “I have always been more interested in the business of ruling than cattle.” 

Jedediah rolled his eyes, but the slap he came up and delivered to Octavius’s back had no real heat behind it. “Sold me out!” he said, so close that Octavius could feel his breath on the back of his neck, prickling the short shaven hairs. The smells of clean sweat and candy rose from him, a dizzying combination. “C’mon, amigo, onward to Rome. I been fixin’ to find some way to see it again, anyhow.” 

Octavius let out a snort most unworthy of an _imperator_. “Oh? And what in Rome fascinates you so?” 

“Dunno. You?” Jedediah winked, and trotted on ahead – thank the gods – quickly enough that Octavius didn’t have to suffer the humiliation of him seeing the dreaded blush. 

The night’s appointed border guards had left ropes dangling off the edge of the diorama, an indulgence Larry permitted with the rationale that it made getting back in before sunrise easier (although, truth be told, Octavius suspected that he just wanted some excuse not to be considered a complete pushover). Jedediah and Octavius quickly scaled them and greeted – Jedediah tipping his hat, Octavius using a few words – the people nearest the edge. After, Octavius took a long look around the Hall of Miniatures for something to do while the flames in his face cooled. “The Mayans are in fine form tonight,” he observed. “Did you know that they invented a sophisticated system of plumbing on their own? Far superior to our aqueducts.” 

“Wouldn’t know,” said Jedediah. “I’ve never been. Don’t speak Mayan and they don’t care to use English. I think they understand it, though.” Octavius heard the soft sound of him scratching his head from behind him. The rasp of his hat against his hair gave it away every time. “Are they the ones who invented chocolate?” 

“The Aztecs, I believe. A different civilization, farther to the north. Perhaps they communicated.” 

“Yeah, makes sense,” said Jedediah. “Mexico, right? I know plenty of Mexicans. You’ve probably met a bunch in our diorama. ‘S’how I learned a little Spanish. I mean…not here, but…” He trailed off, but Octavius didn’t need further explanation. The subject of their previous lives was oftentimes easier thought than spoken. “Still on for that spare, friend? Let’s find your house.” 

“ _Domus_ ,” Octavius corrected as he turned, simply for the satisfaction of seeing a little irritation cross that cheerful face. Sometimes, he thought the contrariness of Discordia resided in him, much as it had the first time he lived. “All right.” 

They reached his home quickly, bypassing a man on a street corner who clearly thought himself a sophist of old with his clever word games and rapt crowd. “I will warn you,” Octavius said, “my chambers are…are perhaps less opulent than you might expect.” 

Jedediah outright laughed at that. “Y’mean to say it’s a normal man’s bedroom and not an emperor’s? Never woulda thought.” His voice echoed in the vestibule, massive in comparison to his size. The sound fit his larger-than-life personality rather well, Octavius thought. “Nah, I’m teasin’. You ain’t as stuck-up as all that.” 

“I’m delighted to hear it,” Octavius said drily. “Come, unless you wish me to retract my offer.” 

“Nah. I’ll hold you to it.” 

Octavius nodded and led Jedediah through the _peristylum_ , smaller and less elaborate than that of the palace he had known in life. In all honesty, he preferred it this way. The makers of the diorama had done him a favor when they allowed him less room to act a true _imperator_. “Ah…here,” he said, stopping before the door of his chambers. Suddenly, he felt almost shy. While Jedediah had been inside his home before, he had never seen his _cubiculum_. “No comments about my attitude here, please. I have no desire to make a spectacle.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Octy,” Jedediah said, with a half-smile and a motion from his hips that might have been a teasing bow. 

They entered together; Octavius held his breath, although he knew it was foolish, as he watched Jedediah turn and observe. What if the room smelled too much like him, and what if Jedediah found it unpleasant? What if he thought it too ostentatiously decorated, or not enough? There were tapestries on the walls and rugs on the marble floor, but… _no, this is foolishness_. He would not stand here, as some of the more modern exhibits put it, ‘woolgathering.’ “I do spend some time here, you know,” he said. “Occasionally, I like to sleep at night. It puts my mind at ease to pretend I’m not a miniature.” 

Predictably, Jedediah chuckled. “So where’s that shirt?” 

“One-track mind,” Octavius muttered, just loudly enough for Jedediah to hear, and crossed to where he kept his clothes. He had only a few, mainly outfits that were suited for meetings of the Senate or addresses to his people, such as the resplendent toga that once inspired the nickname _toga boy_. Westerners had no concept of beauty or elegance. _Well_ , he thought, looking sidelong at Jedediah, _maybe they do have_ some _beauty_. Jedediah’s blue eyes would have been brilliant and sharp, were they not tempered with kindness and good humor. The rough lines of his face only complemented those things, even the crook of his nose. “Here,” Octavius said after he had found the promised tunic. It was red, like the one he wore, and he thought it might suit his friend. “This should do.” He handed it to Jedediah. 

Jedediah hefted the fabric in his hands, held it up to the faint diorama light that came through the windows, and then - _oh, by Jupiter_ \- lifted it to his face and _sniffed_. Octavius thought his eyes might burst out of his head with how hard he stared. What in the name of all the gods was he thinking? “Now there’s a surprise,” said Jedediah from the depths of the cloth. Octavius nearly jumped in place. “Y’know, for someone who’s always workin’ and sweatin’, you don’t smell half bad at all, Octy.” 

“I, ah…I do wash my clothing,” said Octavius, recovering quickly. Well, perhaps not completely recovering. _Down, damn you_ , he thought at his most inconvenient part. “Perhaps it would smell more like your leathers if I didn’t.” 

“Hey, now, don’t you go ballyhooin’ my chaps!” Jedediah lowered the tunic and squinted indignantly at him. “They do what they’re s’poseta. Now if you think I smell, why don’t you go on and let me change?” 

“Ballyhooin’,” Octavius repeated sardonically, relishing the look he got. “Yes, of course.” 

He made to turn around, but Jedediah stopped him with an upraised hand. “Naw, I’m the one changin’. I’ll do that.” He pivoted, showing his back to Octavius, and wiggled out of his vest to reveal the sweat-stained shirt underneath. Then, dexterously, he unbuttoned _that_ and…

His back was glorious. 

Well, Octavius reflected, perhaps not the _most_ glorious back he’d seen, but all he could do was stare at it. Jedediah’s muscles stood out under his skin, with the long, sinuous curve of his spine between them. Shadows of ribs traced their way out from the center, but far from making him look frail or weak, they just added to his sense of…dexterity, perhaps. Wiry strength. Octavius could attest from all the times they had fought that he possessed just that. _Any of my men would envy such a body_ , he thought. 

Jedediah, ignorant to the thoughts in his head – thank all the gods – was chattering away as he took off his hat and began to put on the tunic. “Now here’s the kind of stuff I ain’t felt in a dog’s age,” he said. “Feels nice.” The muscles of his back flexed and dipped as he put his arms through the sleeves. Octavius squinted, and thought he saw faint freckles just over Jedediah’s shoulders. “Mm. What is this stuff?” 

“Silk,” said Octavius weakly. “It’s one of my better ones.” 

“Thanks, then. I owe ya.” The tunic slipped down over those shoulders that a sculptor would beggar himself to render in marble, and the spell was broken. Octavius blinked a few times and wondered, not for the first time, what in Jupiter’s name was wrong with his head. “How do I look?” Jedediah spun around, arms out in a flourish, and grinned at him. 

“I…” Octavius gulped. “More than adequate.” The flowing red fabric that draped over Jedediah’s jeans should have made him look utterly comical, but somehow, against his mussed fair hair and ear-to-ear smile, it worked. The whole of Rome would have wanted to make a spectacle of him somehow if he were…well, not real, but historical. Everyone would have wanted to be either his wife or his master, or perhaps both. “Do you intend to go back to your diorama?” 

Jedediah gathered his shirt and vest from off the floor, folded the former over his arm, and put the latter on over the tunic. _Now_ he looked comical, but not enough to keep Octavius from feeling that he was about to burst in more ways than one. “Maybe, but there’s still stuff you’n I could do,” he said. He put his hat back on. “Want to watch a Halloween movie with Larry? He mighta said somethin’ about pirates.” He frowned. “Or maybe it was pirat _ing_.” 

“Perhaps later,” Octavius told him. Seeing Jedediah begin to frown, he added, “I don’t mean that I don’t want to spend time with you. I just want a small amount of it for myself. I’ll find you when I’ve taken some…” 

“Me time?” Jedediah suggested. “That’s what those people in all the videos call it.” 

“Yes, that.” Octavius nodded and hoped it looked decisive. “I’ll show you out. I can give you a full tour another time.” 

Jedediah bumped their forearms together. “I’d sure like that.” 

Octavius led him out of the house with few words, all pertaining to where he might find some entertainment in the Roman diorama before he left. He stood looking out at Jedediah – specifically, Jedediah’s retreating backside, covered by the fluttering edge of his tunic – for a moment before the situation below his belt recaptured his attention with an insistent throb. He quickly darted back inside, bolted the door, and all but ran back to his _cubiculum_ to ease his problem. 

His hands shook as he removed his pteruges and undergarments, leaving on his own tunic and accoutrements. The images of Jedediah’s bare back, of his bare _hands_ , fingers entering and leaving his mouth, were fresh and alluring in his mind. _Oh, Venus guide me_. Undoubtedly Jedediah would spook and shy away if Octavius even hinted of the way he felt, below the waist or above, so this was clearly the only way he could release his feelings. 

Octavius cupped the underside of his bare erection and moaned. His hands were callused, as Jedediah’s undoubtedly were from his nightly occupations, and for a moment he could imagine that it was Jedediah touching him. “Oh - !” He hissed sharply as he let his thumb make contact with the tender space between his testes and the base of him. It had been too long since he had allowed himself an indulgence like this. It felt like years. Possibly it _was_ literal years that he’d neglected his duty to his own body. 

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply with each stroke of his hand on himself. His erection, far from being satiated at the touch, only grew. _Jedediah_ , he thought, and whimpered. What would his people think to see him like this, so undone at the thought of someone so recently considered a barbarian? What would they think of his desires to do things to Jedediah – and have things done to him in return? 

Images flashed behind his eyes, some real, some of things that he desperately wished could happen. _Jedediah freed from the hourglass, scraped by sand but whole and happy. Jedediah with his eyes sparking in anger as he and Octavius crossed arms and weapons alike. Jedediah’s bare back, his jovial voice. Jedediah sitting on the edge of this very bed, crying out in pleasure with Octavius on his knees, making him feel, showing him love…_

Octavius had never done such a thing to another man, in his first life or in this one. It would have been tantamount to giving up his social position, to living practically as a slave if anyone found out. He was no _pathicus_. But Jedediah himself was no _pedicator_. If Octavius performed such an act…he could barely imagine it, but he knew it would be an act not of submission, but love. 

_Love_. 

He had been accused of dramatics before, but during an act that was supposed to be so mindless? Octavius shook his head at his own ridiculousness and concentrated instead on pleasure. A stroke of his thumb over the head of his _mentula_ made him breathe so sharply that he briefly wondered if he would lose consciousness. But no, he would stay the course. He whimpered, letting the pad of his thumb gently push back the foreskin and rub in slow, light circles. “Oh…” The image of Jedediah came to him again, unbidden. _Beautiful hands_ , Octavius thought. If he were eager, if he wanted to touch him…

Octavius spat into his palm and made a loose fist, then began to stroke up and down his length. Without orgasm, he would perish soon, no doubt. “Ah –“ Blue eyes. A voice husky with arousal. “ _Jedediah!_ ” His peak would come soon; he could feel it bearing down on him, as sure and heavy as the iron horse in the Western diorama. 

His _testiculi_ drew up tightly and Octavius threw an arm under his head to support himself, pressing down onto the bed with the bottoms of his feet. “J-Jed – Jede –“ 

“Octy?” 

The pleasure suddenly built to an explosion inside him – between his legs, behind his eyes, in the cramps that wracked his tensed feet. A yowl tore from deep inside him. _Gods above!_ He gritted his teeth and panted through the climax until it had wrung what it would from him and he could only lay back, panting. 

Then his eyes opened. For a moment, he thought it was a hallucination, but no, Jedediah really stood there with his hat in his hands. His mouth hung open, and the expression on his face made the one he’d worn when Octavius’s helmet met his nose look like mild disinterest. “Octy?” he repeated. 

“I…” _Do something! Cover yourself!_ some part of Octavius screamed, but he could only sit, frozen as a statue, as he stared back. “Jedediah?” 

“I, uh, I thought I forgot somethin’.” Jedediah’s voice sounded strange in the silent room. Babbling, disjointed. “Then I heard my name and I ran in here and, um…” He swallowed hard. “Why don’t I go?” 

It was as thought the floor had dropped out of the room and taken Octavius with it. In another life, he might have run after his friend and made him understand. But as the door slammed and Jedediah’s steps picked up speed in the distance, Octavius found that every skill of placation or explanation he knew had deserted him. 

_What have I done?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sect," in this sense, is not meant as a slam on Christianity. In religious studies, and in the context in which Octavius is using it, the term means a religion or religious power base. There were many Jewish sub-sects in Octavius's time, one of which led to Christianity. Jewish people also made up about 10% of the population of the Roman Empire, so Octavius would have been familiar with some Jewish customs and beliefs.
> 
> I am godihatethisfreakingcat on Tumblr, and I love feedback. LOL. :) ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kicking rocks had always worked well for Jed when he was upset. 
> 
> (Spoiler alert: not tonight.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [Martinus Cornelius](martinus-cornelius.tumblr.com) for being THE AWESOMEST with regards to this fic and a whole lot of other Jedtavius stuff.

Kicking rocks had always worked well for Jed when he was upset. The museum visitors tracked plenty of tiny pebbles in on the bottoms of their shoes. When those weren’t available, bits of dust would sometimes do if they were big enough. But tonight, he was upset enough that he’d gone a little too far. 

“Yow!” he yelped, pulling his foot away from the edge of Ahkmenrah’s sarcophagus. “Goshdarn!” Unless he missed his guess, and he wasn’t usually wrong about this kind of thing, he’d broken at least one toe. “Ow, ow, ow ow ow…” He grabbed his leg and did his best to massage his toes through his boot. Yep, broken. At least his little toe was. It would heal up pretty soon, but that smarted. 

Not as much as finding Octavius…no, he wasn’t going to think about that. Nope, nope. 

“Least it ain’t my drivin’ foot,” he told the almost-empty room. The jackal guards couldn’t hear him, all curled up and asleep like they were. Cute as puppies in a basket. He would’ve appreciated that on any other night. It was even kind of funny when they woke up from a nap and started attacking you like they were ashamed of getting caught. He and Octavius had had a real fun time a few weeks before, using the car to escape from the things while Ahkmenrah laughed and laughed. 

Just thinking of Octavius made something squeeze in his belly, like he’d had too much to drink, so he scowled at his foot instead and limped back to the car. But he couldn’t keep the thoughts out of his head. What in tarnation had possessed Octavius to go and do _that_ when Jed had just left? Saying Jed’s name, no less? There was something screwy in his head, that was for sure. 

Nothing wrong with a little onanism once in a while. Every man had his needs, and Octavius could reckon with whatever gods he worshipped for whatever understanding he had with them about sin. Jed had learned to ignore the sounds of the people in the Western diorama when they went at it, whether with themselves or others. Even he…well, even he had his needs sometimes. If he imagined dark eyes, dark hair, and a stupid helmet, that wasn’t no one’s business but his own. 

But he’d never shouted Octavius’s name! That just went beyond the bounds of common decency, and what if it meant something? What if Octavius wanted to do _Roman_ kinds of things with him? What if he was going to start making eyes at him, like that Flavius fellow had begun to do with Horace? 

Jed clenched his hands on the steering wheel until he could feel his gloves cutting off circulation to his fingers. He wasn’t stupid. There were things he’d learned about Rome back when he was really alive and now, too, and…those Romans... “They’re weird, that’s what they are!” he said to the empty car, pushing down on the gas pedal a little harder than he intended. One of the more sensible monkeys moseyed into his path a little ways down the hall, and he looped carefully around it. At least the rest of them didn’t go trying to grab the car, like Dexter. Octavius could say whatever he liked about his driving, but dagnabbit, at least he could get out of the way. 

“Stop thinkin’ about Octavius,” he told himself sternly. _And stop talking to myself, too_. If anyone heard him, they would think he was speaking in tongues, and why was he _squirming_ in the seat? It was like he had ants in his pants. 

He drove around the halls of the museum as aimlessly as he could for a while. Octavius hadn’t run after him, so he was probably avoiding him, and thank goodness for that kind of small mercy. Octy could be pushy, but he wasn’t a…well, what _was_ he these days? 

And, Jed had to ask himself, was it really wrong? They lived in a museum – in a world – where a tablet could make things come to life at night. He remembered dying, but now he was at least half-alive, and not in the way of the zombies he’d seen in all those movies. He knew darn well he wasn’t Jesus, but he’d come back to life, and so had everyone else in the museum. Even if they were just miniatures with memories, the memories lived on. 

These weren’t new thoughts. He’d spent plenty of long, lonely walks and hours in his tent thinking about how he could reconcile being a good Christian with what happened to him. He’d even talked about it with Octavius, who nodded and made concerned noises and talked about the strange things that had happened to his own gods. So if the Bible was wrong about a few things…couldn’t it be wrong about others? 

Not stuff like murder, of course. That was just plumb wrong. So was cheating on your wife, if you had one. But a man with a man? 

Jed gulped, U-turned hard enough to make the tires squeal, and headed back towards the Hall of Miniatures. No guarantee Octavius even wanted to do anything with him. A man as handsome as Octavius, with his history, could have any man he wanted – if it were in fact men he wanted. _Gotta be realistic_ , he thought. Maybe Octavius was just blowing off steam. 

“Jed, good you’re here!” said Horace when he parked and got out, trotting towards him. “It’s close to sunrise. Better get back in the diorama – hey.” He peered at Jed’s leg. “What’s wrong with you? You git hurt?” 

“Naw, not too bad,” said Jed, but he was proven a durn liar when he tried to climb the rope to the diorama. “Oh, son of a…!” He hopped down onto his uninjured foot so he wouldn’t start swearing all over the place. “I kicked somethin’ I shouldn’t have,” he admitted. “Can someone help me up?” 

Horace didn’t ask questions, thankfully, just put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. “Hey!” he shouted when heads turned. “Need a couple of people to help Jed up to the diorama. Get him to the doctor, too. He’s hurt his foot.” 

Ziwai and Houming, who worked on the railroad, ran over and gave Jed enough of a boost that he could get up most of the rope using his arms. He thanked them profusely, but scowled at them when they insisted on frog-marching him over to the doctor’s tent instead of letting him go sulk in his own. See if he gave Houming any of his chicken pot pie the next time Larry brought it for midnight dinner. Just see if he shared his share now. Wasn’t gonna happen. 

Dr. Sanger poked at his foot a while and then gave him the world’s worst stink-eye. “You got this kickin’ rocks?” he said in a voice that implied he didn’t believe Jed one bit. “What, did you and that Roman feller get in a fight?” 

Jed stiffened up. _Is he reading my mind?_ Then a more sensible explanation kicked in. “You think he stomped me or somethin’?” he said, and shook his head. “No, Octavius wouldn’t do me dirty like that. I just kicked something I shouldn’t’ve. I swear, Doc.” 

The doctor tapped a finger on his stubbled chin. “You sure?” Jed nodded. “Now why’d you go kickin’ a big rock or whatever it was?” 

“Well…’cause…” Jed looked down at his feet. “’Cause Octavius and I got in a fight,” he admitted. Well, maybe it was a lie, but they probably would’ve gotten in a fight if he stuck around. 

“Now I thought you were over that,” Dr. Sanger scolded. “Coupla kids, that’s what you are. Who started it?” 

“Octavius was just actin’…weird.” _Touching his pecker, that’s what was weird._ Jed’s face flushed, and he tilted his hat downward to hide it. “He needed some alone time, I needed some alone time, that’s all there is to it. Might, uh, _ow_.” Trying to wiggle his toes had been a mistake. “Shoot.” 

The doctor dusted some sand off his hands. It always got everywhere in the diorama – sometimes even into their drinks, darn it. “Well, you did somethin’ stupid and you’re payin’ for it,” he said cheerfully, adjusting his spectacles on his nose. “I’ll wrap your toes, but you’ll have to stay off your feet for the next few nights. I mean in your tent, Jed. No ridin’, no goin’ out to see the Romans. No fetch with that damn dinosaur.” He shrugged. “But if you and that Octavius are fighting, maybe it’s for the best.” 

Jedediah looked down irritably at his thighs and tried to forget the feeling he’d had at the back of his neck while climbing up to the diorama, as if Octavius were looking at him with worry and some kind of longing he didn’t quite understand. Or how he thought he’d seen him out of the corner of his eye, doing just that.

* * * 

After two nights, Jed was well enough to limp from one end of the diorama to the other, and Dr. Sanger pronounced him “mostly better”, with an admonition to stay the hell away from anything dangerous. In those exact words. Jed pouted at that and stuck out his tongue, which got him an “important finger,” as Larry put it. The other miniatures had been listening to Larry and the Internet a little too much, in his opinion.

Another night after that and Jed was healed up enough to stop favoring his left toes, although things still felt a little swollen down there. Lucky the tablet made things heal more quickly than they did otherwise; the old night guards were a testament to that. Still, he kept off his left boot in favor of some loose wrappings that sort of kept the sand out. 

Changing up his normal routine and clothing made it a little easier to avoid thinking about a certain someone, too, although that didn’t always work. Like right now. The image of Octavius floated into his head and Jed’s hands slipped on the carved wooden apple he was working on, making it bounce to the sandy floor of the diorama. “Dadgum!” he said, hissed in frustration, and reached forward to grab the carving before it picked up too much sand. 

But someone else got to it first. “Here.” Octavius’s voice. Octavius’s _hand_. Jed took back the apple because what the heck else could he do, and then – oh, for the love of – Octavius was getting down on the ground next to him. “So. You’re carving.” 

“Um, uh. Yeah.” Jed squeezed the wood in his hands and was just glad for his gloves, because otherwise he would’ve gotten a splinter for sure. “So, uh. Haven’t seen you for a few days.” He glanced up under his eyelashes and hoped like hell that Octavius wouldn’t look at him. “How’re you doin’?” 

Luck was with him, or maybe one of Octavius’s gods, because Octavius was just staring down at his own hands. “You were injured,” he said. “I thought it best to stay away – and I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.” 

“Yeah,” said Jed, and then just in case Octavius thought he was trying to hurt him, added “Got hurt. Kicked Ahk’s tomb and now I’m regrettin’ it. Doc said I broke a couple of toes.” He stripped off his gloves and picked his knife back up. Whittling was always easier when his hands were bare. “Weren’t nothin’ to do with you.” A big fat lie, but he was sure God understood. 

He scraped at the wood in silence for a few minutes before Octavius spoke again. “Jedediah, I am very sorry that you saw what you saw.” 

Well, that didn’t even begin to cover it, and dang if Jedediah was going to let Octavius go around spouting half-truths about what he’d been doing! “And heard what I heard, right?” he said, looking Octavius full in the face. Octavius looked just as surprised as he expected. “Octavius, you had your…” _Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush!_ “You had your pecker in your hand! And you were shoutin’ my name!” 

“I know very well what I was doing,” said Octavius icily, his gaze shifting momentarily downward to Jed’s hands. Why he did that, Jed had no idea. “I’ve come to apologize, not to be shouted at. I’ve wanted to see if you were all right ever since I saw you were injured.” He paused. “Did you kick Ahkmenrah’s tomb because…because of what I did?” 

Jed sighed. As tempting as it was to make something up and clear out the sad look in those puppy-dog eyes, he wouldn’t lie to Octavius. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, that’s why. It was kinda discombobulatin’, you know. A man’s gotta run off and have a think when he sees somethin’ like that.” He pointed down at his injured foot. “But I ain’t hurt too bad, and you shouldn’t feel bad, neither.” 

“How could I not feel bad,” said Octavius, “when it was my fault you were injured? I swear to you, I didn’t mean for you to see me like that, Jedediah.” His hands twitched towards Jed’s, almost as if he wanted to take Jed’s hand in his own or something plumb ridiculous like that. _No way, no how_ , Jed told himself. “I’m deeply sorry, but I can’t apologize for saying your name.” 

“Can’t say I blame you there,” Jed admitted. “If you didn’t mean fer me to hear, but…but I…” He squeezed the apple, and there was Octavius’s gaze on his hands again like a couple of those laser beams from the movies. Whatever in the Sam Hill was going on in Octavius’s head, he didn’t want to know. “You were thinkin’ about me while you were doin’ that, weren’t you? Wouldn’t’a said my name otherwise.” He gulped. His accent was thickening, as it always did when he was upset – or, in this case, something that wasn’t upset, but that he couldn’t really name. “You, uh, probably wanna do other stuff with me, don’t you?” 

Octavius jerked in place a little. “Jedediah –“ 

Jed held up a hand. “Now hold on there, pardner, let me finish. I ain’t mad, so you might as well git that thought outta your head. I ain’t gonna abandon ya to the wolves. Or Dexter, whatever.” He shifted on the hard, sandy ground. “I just don’t know nothin’ about the kinds of stuff you had in mind. Those Romans, they were, uh, crocky kinds of people, weren’t they? You were, I mean. Dang it!” He scratched what he could reach of his hair. “I can’t think straight tonight.” 

“We were…” Octavius began, and stopped. For a long time, Jed stared down at his hands, unable to hear anything except his friend’s quiet breathing next to him. “We are, I suppose,” Octavius finally continued. “Jedediah, it was never my intention to make you uncomfortable. You say you’re not angry, but if what I did made you uncomfortable, you have my word I will never do it in your hearing again. I’ll be far more careful.” 

Jed scooted up a little ways, putting the apple down and knitting his fingers together. How could he say what he meant? How could his simple words do any kind of dad-blamed justice to the weird, unidentifiable _not_ -disgust he felt curling in his belly? “You had to have a reason for sayin’ it, di’n’cha?” he ventured. “I mean, uh, sayin’ and doin’. There’s somethin’ about me that made you want to…um…” His cheeks went hot. “Made you want to do that.” How often did Octavius commit onanism, anyway? He couldn’t imagine he did it all that often. Octavius was too darn buttoned-up for that. Or, well…Jed had seen him unbuttoned. “So why don’t you tell me?” 

“You want to hear my…feelings?” said Octavius. He cleared his throat. “Jedediah. Jed. Are you sure you want to hear what I have to say?” He turned so that he faced Jed fully, and as Jed looked at him, he was struck by the sheer depth in those dark eyes. It was times like this that Octy went from ‘striking’ to downright good-looking through some alchemy of his face that Jed could only imagine the Romans had perfected, real quiet-like. It would be just like them. “Most of all, I don’t want to lose our friendship.” 

“Aw, Octy. You couldn’t lose me if you tried.” Jed grinned at him. “I’ll always be here. You know, sorta like a barnacle. That’s what they have on ships, ain’t it?” 

“Yes, but…you’re sure?” 

“’Course.” Jed tapped a finger against his lips. “I’m listenin’.” 

And there Octavius went, staring at him again – or was he staring at his hands? “My feelings would perhaps be more suited to being _shown_ than being told,” said Octavius, his voice having suddenly gone raspy and deeper than usual. “Could I? I swear by my life, I will not hurt you.” 

Something fluttered, or maybe thudded, in Jed’s belly. “Yeah, Octy,” he said, all quiet-like. Huh. He hadn’t meant to sound like that. “Yeah, you go on ahead.” 

Slowly, slowly, Octavius reached out and took one of Jed’s hands between his warm ones, squeezing gently and stroking his fingertips ever-so-lightly against the fingers and palm. Jed just about jumped in place, it tickled that bad, but managed to keep himself still. This was strange, but suddenly he wanted more than anything to know what came next. Then, almost in slow motion, he watched Octavius bring his hand up to his face – and felt him press his lips against it. 

He realized his breath was heaving like he’d just ridden fifty miles at a canter, over the roughest roads he’d ever encountered. “Wh-what’re you doin’, Octavius?” 

“You have beautiful hands,” Octavius whispered. 

“So you’re…touchin’ ‘em?” 

“Yes. I’m touching…your…oh, gods.” Octavius broke off in a mumble and went bright pink. “I’m sorry, Jedediah. I’m being derelict in my duty.” 

Jedediah snorted. “What duty’s that, Octavius?” 

Octavius didn’t answer. Instead, he moved closer, until their thighs were nearly touching and Jed could feel his heat in the tiny distance between them. “This?” It was half a statement and half a question, one that Jed wasn’t inclined to contradict – especially when Octavius took Jed’s face between his hands. “This?” he repeated, and rested their foreheads and noses together. 

“Octy?” Jed’s voice was so faint it couldn’t have scared a cricket. “Please.” 

“Of course,” said Octavius, a deep ripple of sound, and their mouths met. 

It was like a bomb had gone off somewhere in Jed’s body. He gasped and wrapped his arms around Octavius, clinging to him so hard he was probably like to blend right into him, and he didn’t care. Octavius groaned something he couldn’t make out and opened his mouth, and for the first time, Jed was treated to the taste of him. _Oh, good God_ , he thought, and couldn’t even be angry at himself for blaspheming. He didn’t even know how to describe what Octavius tasted like, so he gave up trying and settled for trying to suck Octavius’s lips into his mouth instead. Wait, that wasn’t any kind of hot. Sucking on his lips? Maybe. 

It was then that Jed realized he couldn’t think and kiss at the same time, so he did his best to shut off his stupid brain and leaned into it with all his might. Probably overestimated his leverage, because Octavius toppled over onto his back with a soft, sandy _plop_ and a surprised noise that didn’t deter Jed at all. 

At least until he rolled a little too hard and knocked his forehead – and teeth – against Octavius’s. “Ow!” 

“Gah!” Octavius jerked back, holding a hand against his mouth. “Jedediah, are you all right? Are you bleeding?” 

“Nnnh. Don’t think so.” Jed rolled his tongue around the inside of his mouth. Tasted a little raw, but there weren’t any active blood fountains going on. Thank goodness for that. “Sorry, Octavius. Guess I got carried away.” His face bloomed with heat and he scratched the back of his neck, scrambling away until he wasn’t sprawled over Octavius any longer. “You okay?” 

“Fine. I’m fine.” Octavius reached for Jed’s hand again, and Jed let him squeeze it. “That was…please, let’s – let’s continue.” He sat up and tucked himself in closer to Jed’s side. Jed wasn’t sure if he was going to be this handsy from now on, but he sure did like it. Octavius’s pupils were huge; Jed fancied that he could see his reflection in them. 

The sight made him shiver, but not so much as the realization that all of Octavius’s shifting had less to do with being thrown to the ground and more with…well, wanting to be on it. With Jed. “Hell yeah,” Jed said, and reached to pull Octavius against him. “Gimme your mouth again.” He blushed even harder at the words coming out of him, but it didn’t matter as much as it might’ve. 

“You think to give me orders,” said Octavius, and Jed could remember him saying that same thing a thousand durn times in the last fifty years, but never with that smile on his face. Octavius’s hand cupped the back of his neck as his friend pulled him downwards and soundly kissed his mouth, the tip of his nose, his neck. That was even better than just his lips. Jed led out a moan that maybe could’ve broken the sound barrier and pushed his hips against whatever parts of Octavius he could reach. 

Octavius turned out to be a lot more clever with the reaching stuff than Jed, because when he slung his leg over Jed’s and grabbed his hips, Jed just about saw stars. “’S’better than seein’ a sunrise,” he gasped, tearing his lips away from Octavius’s. 

“What?” 

“Never mind. Just keep doin’ that.” It was a lot like some of their knock-down-drag-out fights, and Jed reveled in the familiarity at the same time as he basked in the novelty of rolling around with Octavius, hip-to-hip. And other-parts-to-other-parts, too. The feel of _it_ under him – no, above him, the way Octavius kept rolling – made him gasp and then wiggle like he’d die if he couldn’t scratch an itch. 

But then Octavius stopped. Jed whined, because what in the blue hell was _that_ , but Octavius pressed a finger against his mouth and kissed his earlobe. “The others will find us if we keep moving,” he said in a voice that had no darn right to be as ragged as it was and still coherent. “We should – use our hands.” 

Suddenly, the shyness hit Jed again, full-force. “My hands on your…?” 

“You have beautiful hands,” said Octavius. “I haven’t been able to stop watching them.” 

“Dear sweet Lord in heaven,” said Jed slowly, watching embarrassment fill Octavius’s eyes as he put the pieces together. “Y’mean when I was eatin’ that stuff and took my gloves off?” 

Octavius nodded. “Does that bother you?” 

“Hell, _no_ ,” said Jed, with feeling. “Got me all…well…” He swayed his hips a little, just in case Octavius missed the point after all the pointing he’d done down below, right up against his bit of stiff. “So. You wanna, um, go to my tent?” It was just lucky, or maybe providential, that his tent was in one of the far corners of the diorama, nestled right up under one of the fake cliffs. In deference to his experience or personality or maybe just general sense of yeehaw, people tended to leave him – and it – alone. Yep, providential. 

“Yes,” said Octavius, nodding again, this time so hard that Jed thought his head might pop off. “I don’t want to be seen.” 

“That makes two of us.” Jed heaved himself to his feet with considerable difficulty, considering the piece in his pants and the lingering pain in his foot, and held his hand out to Octavius. “C’mon, pardner. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, ain’t they?” He waggled his eyebrows. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Octavius dryly, but allowed himself to be pulled along anyway. 

Jed could hear the bustle of the diorama off in the near distance and thanked God, or whoever was watching over them, that no one needed anything from him. Dr. Sanger must’ve spread the word that he wasn’t to be disturbed on account of his foot. “Hands, huh?” he said as he pushed aside the tent flap and motioned Octavius inward. “My hands, or is it just a hand kinda thing, nothin’ special?” 

“Yours, I think,” said Octavius. The tips of his ears were as red as his tunic, and damn if it wasn’t the cutest thing Jed had ever seen. “You, Jedediah.” He took a look around the room. “This is lovely.” 

“Not as nice as yours,” Jed protested. “I ain’t no emperor.” 

Octavius’s eyes met his, dark and intense. “You are to me.” 

“Aw, Octavius.” Jed could’ve melted, and not in the way plastic melted in the hot sun, either (according to the videos he’d seen on YouTube). “You say the sweetest things. C’mon over here.” 

“Where is ‘here,’ exactly?” Octavius asked. He looked a little melty himself, and a little hard, too, if you went by his movements. Jed squinted at him to see if he could make out any hint of something going on under the hem of his tunic. He couldn’t, but it was fun to imagine. 

“Oh.” Yeah, probably a good idea to get on over to the bed before he started getting all come-hither. “My bed. Sorry, that’s what I meant. Quit givin’ me that look!” Jeez, but Jed hated when Octavius got his emperor expression on. “C’mon now.” He sat on the edge of his cot and patted the space next to him. “Rather do this on a bed than the floor, huh? Leastways I would.” 

With a flourish of his cape, Octavius moved to join him. “I would, too,” he said, all supercilious-like. “I have done such things on the ground, but a bed is far preferable.” 

Jed gave him his best stink-eye. “Who’ve you been doin’ things with, Octavius?” 

“My former life is none of your concern.” 

“Weren’t talkin’ about your former life,” Jed grumbled. “But if you wanna flap your jaw instead of…” 

Octavius shook his head, cutting Jed off. “My jaw would rather do other things,” he said, and leaned in, putting a warm hand on Jed’s thigh. Jed suddenly realized that he didn’t have his gloves with him. They were outside, undoubtedly, but some good Samaritan would probably return them to him later. He knew he could make up some lie about how he’d just taken them off and forgotten them while carving. “Should we continue, Jedediah?” 

“Sure, if’n we don’t mind gettin’ interrupted again.” 

“We were not interrupted the first time,” said Octavius, stickler for accuracy that he was, “but if anyone comes to bother you, I’ll tell them that you are indisposed and not to be disturbed on pain of death. Your foot is very important.” 

“Foot, sure. Any other parts of me?” 

Octavius rolled his eyes instead of replying, which Jed thought was pretty smart of him, and leaned in again, grabbing Jed in a fierce hold around the small of his back until they were just about glued together. It was a little more controlled than their earlier rolling around, but Jed liked it just fine, especially when the bounces that their kissing caused led to Octavius landing just about in his lap. _Now_ Jed could feel that piece of his, and it was a gorgeous one. “ _Ah_ ,” Octavius gasped. “Jedediah, you…” 

“Don’t need to tell me, Octy,” Jed said into Octavius’s neck, which smelled like sweat. He was overtaken by a sudden, wild urge to lick it, and resisted only with the most powerful strength of will he could muster. He leaned back to give Octavius some better leverage and got a knee between Octavius’s legs, letting him squirm into position. “That’s right. You go on, sugar, do what you wanna.” 

Octavius went rigid all over. “What did you call me?” 

“Sugar?” Jed pulled back and bit his lower lip, unsure. “You didn’t like it?” 

“I…did.” Octavius licked his own lips, which were red and swollen already. What a pretty sight. “I like your…endearments.” 

Now Jed did give in to the urge to lick Octavius’s neck. “Sure thing, honey,” he whispered against the warm skin. “I’ll call you whatever you want. Sugar. Darlin’.” 

“And do you –“ Octavius turned his neck to give Jed better access, and gasped when Jed bit it – “care for endearments y-yourself?” 

“Sure.” Jed licked the skin he’d bitten, feeling a little bad. Good golly, he hoped that hadn’t left a mark. He just didn’t think sometimes. “What do you s’pose you’d call me?” 

Octavius took charge then, grabbing Jed’s shoulders and pinning him to the bed. “ _Carissime_ ,” he said, and licked up the edge of Jed’s ear. “ _Dulcissime_.” 

Jed just about wanted to melt into a puddle then and there. “Uh. Sh-shouldn’t it be, uh, ‘us’ at the end?” It was so dad-blamed hard to think with Octavius’s tongue on his ear, Octavius’s heavy, warm weight on top of him. Octavius’s pecker against his, too, good lord. 

“Vocative case,” said Octavius, and bit his earlobe. “You h-have much to learn of Latin.” 

“Well, screw that, I’m busy here!” Jed exclaimed. “You gonna use your hands like you promised?” 

“Mmm.” Octavius rubbed his nose against Jed’s and went back to kissing him, breaking away only to say “We should disrobe first.” 

“Hm…yeah…” Jed didn’t want to move, but he sure did appreciate the view when Octavius hopped off him and started taking off his duds. “Good thing you didn’t wear your armor today,” he observed. “Would’n’t’a liked kissin’ you with all that stuff clangin’ around down there.” 

Octavius gave him a dirty look, but kept on getting undressed. His underwear, or whatever the hell he would call it, dropped from beneath the edge of his tunic, followed by the tunic itself. When Jed saw what was underneath, he just couldn’t help whistling. “Dang, Octavius!” 

“What?” 

Jed got to his feet for a better view. “You got hair on your chest! And…wait.” He bent and peered closer at the pretty little glints he saw. “You got your _nipples_ pierced?” 

“When I was the correct size, yes,” said Octavius, and it was really weird how a man could manage to look high and mighty even when he was naked. “The adornments seem to have transferred to my current life. Do they displease you?” 

“Heck, no!” Jed hooked a finger through one of the rings and lightly pulled on it, curious. Octavius immediately let out a high, broken gasp, and Jed watched in fascination as his nipple hardened. “Oh, wow. You’re sensitive, ain’t you?” 

“V-very.” 

Jed felt himself stiffen even more in his pants. “If that ain’t the crockiest thing.” 

“What does _that_ mean?” 

“Pretty sure you know what it means,” said Jed, and pulled on the other ring – not hard enough to hurt Octavius, but hard enough to make him let out that beautiful sound again. _For someone who’s never done anything with a man_ , he thought a little smugly, _you’re sure a quick learner, Jedediah Smith_. If his old schoolteachers could see him now – well, they’d be horrified, right enough. “Oh, Octavius.” 

Octavius’s voice was as rich as the color and sound of a brass bell. “Is that the only part of me you wish to look at – ah -!” He clutched at Jed’s waist. “Stop, stop! I want to see you without your clothes.” 

“Yessir,” Jed teased, and saluted jokingly before he began to get undressed. The first thing to come off was his hat, which he carefully hung off the bedpost of his camp bed, followed by his chaps and vest. Octavius’s look had turned hungry, so he slowed down some when he unbuttoned his shirt. “Like what you’re seein’, Octavius?” He stuttered a little on the name. It was hard not to, when the owner of the name in question was staring at him like he was a cake he’d been waiting for years to eat. Like he was the only thing he’d ever wanted. 

“ _Yes_ ,” said Octavius, so forcefully that he hissed. “Would you let me help you?” 

“Help me get undressed?” Octavius nodded. Little weird, but maybe there was something about Octavius helping him get undressed that would make it better than Billy doing it after Jed got way too drunk at the saloon and had to stumble home like a movie zombie. “I don’t see why not.” 

Octavius moved closer and set to undoing the buttons of Jed’s shirt, which he then eased off Jed’s shoulders. “Your arms are beautiful,” he said in a worshipful kind of way, which was probably blasphemy, but Jed didn’t really care. “And your chest, Jedediah.” 

“Aw, no.” Nothing compared to all that Roman muscle in front of him. It had to be something in their drills, or maybe their food. “I ain’t nothin’ special.” 

“You are.” Octavius traced circles around each of Jed’s nipples without touching either one, which made him squirm like his drawers were on fire, and ran a hand down each of his upper arms. “Lithe and strong and…I don’t know. Words fail me.” He kissed Jed again, softly but intensely, and unbuttoned his jeans in a few smooth movements. “Is this all right?” 

“Mm- _hmm_.” It came out in a helpless whimper. “Please, Octavius. Go on.” His hips were quivering with the effort not to be rude and just thrust forward until he plumb messed up his drawers. “If you want to.” 

Octavius kissed Jed’s neck, and Jed felt as much as heard his wordless whine as he pushed Jed’s jeans down his hips and slid a hand down into his drawers. “ _Jedediah_.” He ran his cupped fingers lightly down, or maybe up, the length of Jed’s erection, and Jed could swear he felt his eyes roll up in his head. “ _Dulcissime_. How long have you felt this way?” 

“What, wantin’ to kiss ya, or… _nnngh_.” Jed rolled his hips against Octavius’s questing hand. “Bein’ all hard?” It felt too good to be embarrassed at either the movement or the question. 

“Either. Both.” Octavius sucked at a spot on his neck. “I have wanted you for years. I’m ashamed to admit it – oh, _oh_.” His hand stole down farther and he touched Jed’s balls with careful fingertips. “I should have come to you before. Everything about you is…” He neglected to finish the sentence in favor of moaning something in Latin, and darn if that didn’t make Jed want to go off like a pistol then and there. 

“Octy,” he said, not sure if he was begging to finish or begging to stop or _what_ all, but he couldn’t sound dignified if he tried and he didn’t want to. “Please, Octy.” 

Octavius pulled away. “Take your clothes off, my darling one,” he said. The term of endearment sounded almost as good in English as in Latin, especially in that husky tone. “Please let me see you.” 

Jed scrambled to get his jeans and drawers off, and luckily didn’t trip over anything in his dash to do it. Finally, he stood in front of Octavius in nothing but what God gave him. “W-well?” His gaze traveled downward to Octavius’s piece, and he would swear his mouth watered. Nothing in the world as pretty as that, in his opinion, all straining and eager. The wet head was already fully exposed. “Wow. You got a lot of hair on you.” He cursed himself for an idiot as soon as he’d said it. 

“Is that a problem?” Octavius went pink, starting at his neck and going all the way down. _All_ the way. Jed watched the blush travel from neck to chest to belly. 

“No problem. I kinda like it.” Jed reached out and touched the farthest tips of his fingers against the hair on Octavius’s upper belly, sparser than that on his chest. It was softer than he expected, not so wiry. “Is this okay?” Never in his life had he thought he’d be able to touch Octavius like this. Octavius’s belly shivered against his hand, warm skin and hair and the hard muscle underneath. 

Octavius let out a low growl, grabbed Jed’s hand, and pushed it harder against him. “Feel free to touch any part of me you wish,” he said. Jed glanced at his face and saw that his pupils were so big that his eyes looked black instead of brown. “Especially my –“ 

“Pecker?” 

Octavius glared. “I do wish you would stop using that word.” 

“Well, excuse the ever-lovin’ heck outta me, Emperor,” Jed said, and patted Octavius’s belly, then withdrew his hand. “You wanna kiss me again? You know, so’s I don’t get soft?” 

His friend stared – and then he chuckled. “It seems even when we want to make love, we can’t stop arguing,” he said. “Maybe we should continue this on your bed. I doubt even you can keep talking when I start truly touching you.” 

“Hell, _yes_ ,” said Jed, and launched himself at Octavius once again. He was getting a little tired of all these interruptions, even if he had to admit that he was responsible for most of them. Not that he would ever say it out loud. Octavius had way too much to be smug about as things stood. 

Octavius kissed him for a while, his hands roaming around Jed’s chest and waist until he shivered, then stopped and did something Jed never would’ve expected in a million, billion years: _lifted him up_. “Does this suffice for romance?” 

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Jed said, although it came out as more of a yelp. Now he was even harder than before. Seemed like being in Octavius’s arms had made him come over all blushing maiden. He pressed his lips into the space between Octavius’s neck and shoulder and left a light bite, just because he could. “Put me down, would ya? I aim to finish what we started.” 

“As you wish,” said Octavius, and dumped him unceremoniously on the bed. Jed would’ve protested, but given that Octavius then straightened him out and lay on top of him, grinding his erection into Jed’s thigh, he couldn’t say as he really minded all that much. 

Then Octavius stole a hand between them and grabbed him again, and from this angle, it was so good that Jed could only whimper into his shoulder. “ _Octy_ ,” he finally managed to say. “Octavius, keep…keep goin’.” 

Octavius drew back, but to Jed’s relief, it was only to lick his palm. He returned his hand to Jed’s erection and stroked upward, fanning his fingertips out at the end of every stroke to touch the head. “Jedediah…” He pressed kiss after kiss into Jed’s neck and pressed his hips against his thigh. “W-wanted this.” 

“Mmmm.” Jed freed his arms and flung one around Octavius’s neck, pulling him closer. “You can’t hardly talk.” 

“No.” Octavius reached down and touched Jed’s other hand. “Would you touch me?” His voice was so soft that Jed wouldn’t have thought it possible from him, before now. “Please?” 

Jed’s heart started pounding. “’Course.” He carefully maneuvered his hand down and, with some hesitation – all right, a lot of hesitation – found Octavius’s hard piece and gently began to touch. 

Now it was Octavius’s turn to start letting out incoherent sounds. As soon as Jed realized that they meant he was enjoying himself rather than dying or feeling like his thing was about to come off, he closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the sensations. His and Octavius’s hands made it mighty crowded down there, but it felt so good to touch and be touched that he didn’t really mind. Octavius’s hands went way beyond skilled and into some kind of ability Jed couldn’t name, and every time he wiggled his wrist _just right_ , Jed’s eyes just about rolled up in his head. Sweat ran down his forehead and the back of his neck. “Octavius,” he finally whined, “can’t…I’m…” 

Octavius pressed even closer, winding his free arm around Jed’s back as best he could and squeezing hard. “ _Please_.” 

But Jed was Octavius’s host, and it would be rude to go ahead and take his own pleasure before he saw to him, so he rustled up some willpower and set to rubbing Octavius faster. Octavius was as hard as a steel bar, and in that moment, there wasn’t a thing Jed didn’t want to do with it. With him. If Octavius even wanted to do this again. 

Octavius’s laugh reverberated in the space between them. “I know what you’re trying to do,” he huffed between breaths. “I’ll have you spent in a moment, my dear.” 

Jedediah Smith had never shied away from a challenge before, and he wouldn’t start now. “I’ll have you doin’ it first!” 

And then Octavius, dirty fighter that he was, twisted his hand and Jed was spending his brains out before he even knew what was going on. 

He was vaguely aware that a bunch of curses he didn’t know he even remembered were coming out of his mouth, but he was more engaged in not blacking out and making sure that Octavius _did_. The orgasm left him wrung out and panting, but he had enough presence of mind to pull Octavius off until the strings of garbled Latin coming out of Octavius’s mouth, and the wetness in his hand, let him know that he’d hit the mark. Octavius shook in his arms, whimpering and biting his own lip, and Jed caught that mouth with his own before he could hurt himself. 

And then it was over. Octavius heaved out a breath and flopped back into Jed’s hold. Jed echoed him. All of a sudden, he was too tired to even keep his neck and shoulders upright, and parts of him were starting to hurt. “My foot,” he complained into a space that consisted half of his pillow and half of Octavius’s ear. 

“And whose fault is that?” said Octavius, but he didn’t sound too fussed. 

“Well, I was supposed to rest, and I’m in bed.” Jed nestled the top of his head just under Octavius’s chin. “Can’t help it if I didn’t get clear instructions, can I? ‘Sides, honey, I feel great with you.” 

“Not just…that.” Octavius went a little rigid, and not in the good way, shoving away and propping himself up on his elbows to stare into Jed’s eyes. “Jedediah. There’s something I must tell you.” 

Jed’s blood dropped a degree or two. “Yeah?” 

Octavius closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and set his jaw. “I have strong feelings for you. I…I would say that I love you, in fact.” 

He tried to hold it in, but Jed couldn’t help it. _He’ll kill me for this_ , he thought, and let himself burst into laughter. 

“What?” Octavius demanded. “Do you think to make mockery of me?” 

Jed wiped some moisture out of his eyes. “Look what we just done, Octavius. You think I’m gonna do that with someone I don’t love? You think you gotta make a big production to tell me?” He hugged Octavius close. “Don’t ever want to let go of you. I love you, too, you rustler.” 

“What is a –“ 

“Work with me here.” Jed kissed the tip of Octavius’s wrinkled nose. “I got time to tell you definitions. _We_ got time. All the nights you want, if you’ll have ‘em with me.” 

It wasn’t a question, but Octavius answered anyway, and Jed loved him even more for it. “Yes,” he said. “Yes. I will never leave you.” 

And then he ruined the mood by knocking Jed’s foot out of the way with his own, but Jed guessed he had plenty of nights to make up for that, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Carissimus_ : dearest, darling  
>  _Dulcissimus_ : sweet one, sweetheart 
> 
> I don't know Latin, but I looked up the vocative case because I'm a massive nerd. 
> 
> The meaning of "crocky" comes from [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4728722). I wish I knew who the author was, because it's AWESOME. 
> 
> I'm godihatethisfreakingcat on Tumblr. :)


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